


Omega Champion

by BabyBarnOwl



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Arena, Dubious Consent, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Flashbacks, M/M, Shiro discovering he's a really big celebrity, second gender discovery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-12 08:28:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10486545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabyBarnOwl/pseuds/BabyBarnOwl
Summary: Quintessence is a strange substance, with properties that sometimes can’t quite be explained. By far its strangest effect is the one it has on the bodies of those who encounter high doses of it. It changes them. Gives them dynamics based on their own quintessence.Shiro had first come into contact with concentrated quintessence during his time in the arena. Everyone had expected Shiro to present as an Alpha, all the previous Champions had been. There had never been an Omega Champion before.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This story is going to mostly be about Shiro being the Champion, and how those around him react to it (with a bit of a/b/o added in, but that'll come more into play later).
> 
> There will also be a bit of a side story of Lance and Keith discovering their dynamics and getting together. (There will be Shance and Sheith in this story, but no Shklance and klance is end game) Shiro gets with pretty much everyone :P

Coran had suggested the cafe, which meant it was not what anyone expected, not even Coran. Personally, Pidge had anticipated disgusting moving food, and someone getting beaten to death. She also suspected that Coran had been expecting the same thing.

The place turned out to be a quaint café, with outdoor seating, and a large monitor playing local entertainment. The food was nice, not Hunk level nice, but nice for space food, which was, as a general rule, gross. 

They were sat around a table, half empty because others were meant to be joining them. ‘They’ meant everyone apart from Allura, who was ‘guarding’ the ship, which was code for Coran worried way too much, and Shiro, who was doing a perimeter check. Something he always did when he seemed uncomfortable.

“You sure this is the right place?” Keith asked, scanning the area with zero subtlety. Across from him, Coran straightened up, and puffed out his chest like he’d just been insulted.

“It most certainly is! I set up this meeting myself. The Roumare’s are a veery secretive people, they wouldn’t hold a secret meeting in any old place. This area right here is known for being very hush, hush. You come here to get away from the rest of the world.”

His comment prompted glances around the café from all the Paladins, all apart from Hunk. Who was transfixed by the monitor hovering opposite him. Pidge couldn't begrudge him for it, she’d probably be doing the same if her back wasn't turned to the screen. Hell, half the café was watching the monitor.

“So where are they?” Keith asked, after a pause. To which Coran frowned.

“It’s a long ride for them, they'll be here,” he replied with all the the confidence of someone who had no idea if what they were saying was true, but was an expert bullshitter. 

Lance sighed and leaned back in his chair. His eyes swept lazily to the monitor as he asked, “so we sit here wai…”

Coran answered his trailed off question, “Hmm, yes, best to wait and bring as little attention to ourselves as possible.” He picked up the café menu as he spoke, and stared it with a suspicious amount of intensity.

“That might be a little hard,” Hunk squeaked. Everyone looked at him in surprise. No one had realised that he was listening.

Pidge waited for Lance to ask him what was wrong. Lance was the best at calming Hunks nerves, even though half the time he was the cause of the nerves. 

In those few ticks she got a better look at Hunk. Her previous side glances had missed how drained and tight his face looked, like he was fighting back being sick.

When Lance didn't speak Pidge filled the silence, “What's that meant to mean?”

Hunk visibly swallowed, and raised a trembling hand to point at something behind Pidge. A sense of dread filled her, and she wasn't sure she wanted to know what Hunk was pointing at, but she had to know. 

Slowly, She turned around.

It was the monitor. Galran words flashed across the bottom of the screen, meaning nothing to her. She knew Altean, and Hunk had started learning too, but Galran was still a mystery, although Coran, Allura, and sometimes even Shiro, had shown at least a basic understanding of the language.

On screen, two aliens, one humanoid, one more…animalistic, and bigger, far bigger, circled each other. They were both splattered with blood, and what Pidge hoped was grime. Whatever it was, it covered them head to foot, making their finer features almost indiscernible. Except, except that the humanoid creature looked, well, more human than humanoid, and it made the creature seem creepily familiar. The crop of black hair, the broad shoulders, the square jaw. As much as she didn't want to admit it, they reminded her of Shiro.

“Is that..?” One of them asked, almost voicing Pidge’s thoughts. It couldn’t be, though. The creature lacked Shiro’s tuft of white hair, his metal arm, and the scar across his face.

“Yeah.” That was Keith. His voice dry, cracking, and small. It sank Pidge's heart into her stomach.

On screen, the large, animalistic creature, lunged at the smaller humanoid -at Shiro- who moved into the attack. The table rattled, caused by a collective flinch.

Were they really watching Shiro fight to the death? Shiro was free. He’d stuck his figurative middle finger up at the Galra, and escaped. This was over. Why was it still here. Why were people still watching it? What if Shiro saw?

“We need to leave,” Lance said, words on track with Pidge's mind. It hadn't been said to her, or anyone in particular, but she nodded anyway, they all did.

“Why's that?”

Again, there was a collective flinch, and this time someone swore as the table rattled.

Their heads swung around like frightened Melmars, a four legged Altean animal with antlers and a reputation for being easily startled.

Shiro stood by an empty chair, one hand dragging it back. He was in full Paladin armour, including the helmet. He looked at them, query still evident on his face.

“What happened. Why do we need to leave?” He asked again. Pidge opened her mouth to answer, but she could find the words. How do you tell someone that their most traumatic moments, the ones so bad their mind had to block them out to cope, were being played out behind you for entertainment?

Everyone seemed to be having equal difficulty as silence was Shiro’s answer. He sat down, and raised his hands to his helmet to pull it off. Suddenly, Pidge realised how bad of an idea that was, and found her voice.

“No!”

“…no? That's not really an answer.” Shiro replied, clearly confused, and starting to become worried.

“The helmet,” Pidge tried to elaborate as she waved her arms in the offending items direction.

“What about it?” He asked.

To which Pidge practically shrieked, “put it on!”

Shiro opened his mouth, likely to ask another question, when Keith sprang to his feet.

“We’re leaving. Now.”

“The Roumare,” Coran began, but stopped as everyone, other than Shiro, turned to glare at him, “right, yes, time to leave.”

“Quietly. Without drawing attention to ourselves,” Lance added, turning his glare to Keith.

“What is going on?” Shiro interrupted, using his leader voice. He looked at each of them individually, and suddenly no one knew how to speak.

His answer ended up being, “hello! Would you like to order?”

A chipper alien in the intergalactic equivalent of a waitress outfit appeared next to Shiro. She had menus in her hand, and a pen tucked behind her ear.

A string of swear words, that Shiro refused to acknowledge she knew, ran through Pidge's head.

Shiro glanced between the waitress and the rest of the Paladins, whilst everyone else stared at her in open horror.

She didn't seem to care, or more likely, notice, because her attention was focuses solely on Shiro.

“We have specials,” she said as she shoved a menu in front of Shiro’s face, “I’d recommend the roasted Han with extra dree, unless you don't like dree, some races don't, do you? We also have fried lail balls. They're good, really, really good, and fried Palachi. We can fry anything, really, it doesn't have to be on the menu. Unless you don't like fried food, we do other food.”

She was clearly babbling, but why? Pidge scanned the room, Keith was doing the same, whilst still standing.

Why had this alien come up to them? There were clearly other tables waiting to order, and the babbling, she had no reason to be babbling, unless…she was actually stalling them. She'd arrived at just the right moment. Had someone recognised Shiro, and called for the Galra? Had she?

Pidge locked eyes with Coran, and in a tick they came to an understanding. He broke eye contact and turned to the waitress.

“My apologies, but we’ve already eaten-,”

“Drinks then!” She cut in, brandishing a different menu, and, again, shoving in front of Shiro's face, her eyes never leaving him.

Shiro leaned back from her frankly scary enthusiasm, but took the menu anyway. Probably due to a need to be at least minimally polite.

“We have all the regular ones, like Zarkon Pop, and Coke, but we also do fermented drinks. Conquers Twist is a popular one, or, umm,” the waitress suddenly went pink, “we do The Champion, if you’d like.”

Pidge felt her mouth fall open as an expression she didn’t quite understand crossed Shiro’s face.

He repeated the waitresses word with uncomprehending slowness, “the Champion?”

The waitress turned a darker shade of red, “yes, it's very popular on arena nights.”

Shiro opened his mouth as if to say something, but then snapped it shut. Pidge felt strangely glad, she didn’t want to know what ‘arena nights’ were either.

Coran took the few ticks of awkward silence to intervene.

He stood up, scraping his chair as he moved, and said, loudly, “we must get going. You’ve be lovely, really, very helpful, but we’ve just found out that the other half of our group won’t be able to join us. Technical difficulties, broken crystals and whatnot.”

“Oh,” the waitress replied, nervousness being replaced with open disappointment, “could you stay for a snack, or we could make you something to take away.”

“No time,” Lance blurted out, also jumping to his feet, "we, uh,” he floundered momentarily, “need to deliver some parts to our friends, they’re stranded without them, can’t fix their ship without them.”

“Yes! Excellent my boy,” Coran praised, and Pidge couldn’t help but think that now wasn’t the time to be admiring Lance’s bullshitting abilities. Still, it was a good excuse, one she was going to latch onto.

“Right, so let’s go,” she added, standing up. At the same time, Lance tugged on Hunks arm, bringing him to his feet. Now they were all standing, staring at the waitress, and a still seated Shiro, who looked like he didn’t believe a work they had just said, but wasn’t going to argue.

“Shiro,” Keith prompted.

The waitress made a little gasping noise, and her eyes went wide as she turned to Shiro, and repeated his name, “Shiro,” in a small, awed voice.

“Yes,” he said, giving her an unconvincing smile, “well, uh.”

“It’s been an honour to meet you, and learn your name! Shiro, I can’t believe I know the Champions name, everyone is going to be so jealous, I can’t wait to tell them."

For a tick Shiro froze. Pidge had never seen a smile look so much like a face of horror. The waitress didn’t seem to notice, or maybe she wasn’t very good at reading human faces, because she continued.

“And can I just say that I admire you very much. Having an Omega Champion is such an inspiration. You give so many little Omega’s out there hope, and someone to look up to.”

Pidge didn’t understand what the waitress was talking about, she didn’t know what an ‘omega’ was, but from the flash of alarm in Coran’s eye’s Pidge could tell that it was something important, and probably unusual.

“Shiro,” Keith said again, interrupting the waitress, his voice more urgent than before. He looked like he wanted to leap across the table, and Lance, who stood next to him, braced himself, ready to stop him. They didn’t need any more attention than they already had. A group of people standing around a table declaring why they had to leave to the waitress was not exactly subtle. 

Luckily, Shiro got up out of his chair, although his movements were jerky, like he’d forgotten how to more properly. Pidge reached out a hand for him, and she could have sworn that he flinched at her touch, but when he looked at her, she could she him relax.

He didn’t need telling to leave again, the gentle tug of her hand was enough. She led him out, and the others followed.

The waitresses voice called after them, “arena nights are every third quintent of the spicolian movement. It would be wonderful if you could make it!”

From the corner of her eye Pidge saw Lance turn back slightly and give her a small wave, Shiro didn’t look back.

Surprised eyes followed them out.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If anyone wants to discuss Champion Shiro I'm happy to talk on my tumblr bestestbird.


End file.
